I Survived the Sinking of the Titanic, 1912

by Lauren Tarshis

  “I’m sorry, madam,” he said. “Regulations …”

  “Open this gate at once!” Aunt Daisy shouted in a tone George had never heard her use before.

  The man took a key from his pocket and opened the gate. He stepped aside to let them pass. The crowd surged forward.

  “Get back!” the steward shouted. “We’ll tell you when it’s time for you to go up!”

  A few of the men lunged toward him.

  Aunt Daisy grabbed George’s arm.

  The steward took a pistol from his pocket. His hand shook as he waved it toward the crowd. George and Aunt Daisy stepped through the gate. The steward slammed it behind them.

  They were trapped down there, just like everyone else.

  George and Aunt Daisy squeezed through the crowd, weaving around trunks and stepping over sleeping children. There were so many people. If Phoebe’s candies were down here, they couldn’t see them anymore.

  Suddenly something crashed into George from behind. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist so tightly he couldn’t breathe.

  George’s heart stopped — the scar-faced man?

  “GIORGIO!” Enzo screamed up at him.

  George’s eardrums nearly split in two.

  Enzo’s father hurried over to them. He tried to gently peel Enzo away from George.

  But the little boy wouldn’t let go.

  “NO!” he howled. “NO!”

  “Very sorry,” Marco said, smiling apologetically at Aunt Daisy, who looked more confused than ever. “We are old friends of Giorgio.”

  George started to introduce Aunt Daisy, but before he could get three words out, Enzo was dragging him down the hall, elbowing his way through the crowd like a pint-sized bull.

  “See! See!” Enzo said.

  “What?” George said. “No …”

  “See! See!”

  What was this kid doing? What did he want George to see?

  The answer was just a few steps away, through an open doorway.

  It was the mail sorting room.

  Except now all George could see was water, green water swirling halfway up the stairs, foaming and churning like a stormy river. Sacks of mail bobbed up and down. Hundreds of letters floated on the surface.

  And now George understood what Enzo was saying.

  Sea.

  The sea.

  The Titanic was filling with water from the sea.

  CHAPTER 11

  Unsinkable.

  Unsinkable.

  George whispered those words like a prayer, over and over in his mind. He thought of Mr. Andrews, of how sure he was of this ship.

  But the longer he stared at that water, that foaming green water, rising higher every second, the more certain he became: The Titanic was in trouble.

  “We must go up,” Marco said to Aunt Daisy. “We find a way.”

  But she shook her head, holding up Phoebe’s bright blue coat and her life jacket.

  “My niece, Phoebe,” Aunt Daisy said. “She’s down here….”

  George could see she was fighting back tears. George had never seen her look so sad and helpless, not even when Uncle Cliff died.

  “She came down here looking for me,” George said. “We can’t find her.”

  Marco’s amber eyes became very intent.

  “An idea,” he said. He knelt down and spoke to Enzo in Italian.

  The boy smiled and nodded.

  Then Marco hoisted the little boy up onto his shoulders.

  Enzo took a huge breath and screamed,

  “Phoebe!

  “PHOEBE!”

  People stopped talking and stared up at the boy with the foghorn voice.

  “Phoebe!

  “PHOEBE!”

  As a hush fell over the crowd, George heard a faint voice.

  “I’m here! I’m here!”

  The crowd parted, and Phoebe appeared, her spectacles crooked, her face pale.

  She staggered forward and threw her arms around George, burying her face in his chest.

  “I found you,” she whispered.

  George didn’t bother arguing over who did the finding. And anyway, his words were stuck in his throat. So he just held her tight.

  It took some time for Phoebe to calm down enough to tell her story: that yes, she had been looking for George and heading for the baggage hold, that she got caught in the crowd of people rushing toward the back of the ship.

  “It was like a stampede,” she said.

  As Phoebe talked, Aunt Daisy helped her into her coat and life jacket. Enzo held Phoebe’s hand, like they were old friends. And the strange thing was that it felt that way, like they’d known Marco and Enzo forever. Maybe that’s what happened when you got trapped in a flooding ship together.

  George started to feel calmer with Phoebe close to him.

  But then came a deep booming sound, a kind of groaning that echoed up all around them. At first George thought maybe the engines had started up again. But no, this wasn’t the sound of the Titanic’s mighty engines.

  The entire ship catapulted forward. People fell, toppling like dominoes. George was thrown into the wall. Screams and shouts echoed through the hallway. He managed to grab Enzo by the life jacket as he went sailing by him. Enzo just giggled as he fell into George’s lap. To him this was a fun game. George hoped he never figured out that it wasn’t.

  “What was that?” Phoebe gasped, digging her fingers into George’s arms.

  Nobody answered.

  But they all knew.

  The Titanic was sinking.

  “We will go up,” Marco said.

  “How?” Aunt Daisy said.

  Phoebe grabbed George’s hand.

  “You, Georgie,” she said.

  “What?” George said.

  “Phoebe’s right,” Aunt Daisy said. “You know the ship better than anyone.” She turned to Marco. “He’s explored every inch.”

  George couldn’t believe it. They were counting on him?

  But what if he made a mistake?

  What if they all got lost?

  “You can do it,” Phoebe whispered.

  And so George closed his eyes, picturing Mr. Andrews’s blueprints in his mind.

  And he remembered: the escape ladders.

  He remembered what Mr. Andrews had told him: The ladders are in the stokers’ quarters, and they run up three decks.

  He pointed toward the front of the ship.

  “This way,” he said.

  CHAPTER 12

  There was no crowd here. Just abandoned trunks and suitcases.

  And water. It was seeping into the hallway from under the doors of some of the cabins. No wonder those people were trying to push their way upstairs. They’d probably known right away that the ship was in trouble and the bottom decks were flooding.

  The door to the stokers’ quarters was locked.

  Marco handed Enzo over to George and rammed the door with his shoulder, breaking the lock.

  George rushed inside and went to the back wall.

  And there it was, a ladder bolted to the wall. Just like Mr. Andrews said it would be. It came through the floor and shot straight up through an opening in the ceiling. George almost laughed with relief.

  “Bravo, George!” Marco said.

  “Bravo, Giorgio!” Enzo said, clapping.

  George hopped up onto the ladder, with Phoebe and Aunt Daisy at his heels.

  George was worried about Enzo, but the little guy scrambled like a monkey right ahead of Marco. They came up in a small dining room meant for crew members, and then George led everyone down a long second class corridor, up the grand staircase, and finally out onto the crowded boat deck.

  They’d made it!

  An officer came hurrying over to Aunt Daisy.

  “Madam, there is a lifeboat about to leave. You and the children must come at once.”

  The man looked at Marco.

  “Women and children only, sir,” he said somberly. “I’m afraid you will have to stay with
the other gentlemen.”

  Marco nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”

  Phoebe had been right. There weren’t enough lifeboats. Not nearly enough.

  What would happen to all of these men on deck? There were hundreds of them! And what about the crew? And those people down on G deck?

  George’s heart was pounding so hard he thought it would break through his chest. He felt dizzy and sick.

  Marco got down on his knees and spoke very quietly to Enzo.

  Enzo nodded. Marco kissed him on the forehead, and then Enzo ran over to Aunt Daisy. She picked him up.

  “I say he will go on a special boat ride,” Marco said. “I say you will not leave him.”

  Aunt Daisy nodded, her eyes welling with tears.

  “I promise you that.”

  Marco and Aunt Daisy looked at each other. Neither of them said a word, but a whole conversation seemed to happen with their eyes.

  Phoebe was really crying now, looking away so Enzo wouldn’t see. George felt like someone was choking him.

  “Come on now!” the officer screamed.

  And so they left Marco, and when George turned around just a few seconds later, he was gone.

  The officer led them through a crowd of men to the side of the ship, where a lifeboat hung just over the side. It was packed with people, all women and children except for two sailors who stood at either end.

  An officer helped Phoebe over the rail, and then one of the sailors reached over and pulled her into the boat. George helped Enzo, who tumbled in next to Phoebe. Aunt Daisy had a hard time climbing over in her skirts, but George held her hand, and she finally made it.

  Now it was George’s turn. As he took a step over the railing, someone pulled him back roughly.

  “No more room,” the officer said. “Women and children only. Lower away!” he called.

  “No!” called Aunt Daisy, standing up in the boat. “He’s only ten years old! Wait!”

  The lifeboat rocked and almost tipped over. Ladies shrieked.

  “You will drown us all!” a woman shouted.

  “Sit down or I’ll throw you over!” the sailor said.

  And now Phoebe was screaming too.

  Enzo howled.

  George was too shocked to move.

  Phoebe leaped up and grabbed hold of one of the ropes. She was trying to climb out of the lifeboat, back to George. He gasped as her hand slipped and she dangled over the sea. A sailor grabbed her around the waist and threw her into the boat.

  And then the boat slid down on its ropes and splashed into the water.

  Aunt Daisy and Phoebe were shouting up at him as the sailors rowed the boat away. George stood there at the rail, watching, his entire body shaking.

  He stood there for what felt like a long time after their boat disappeared into the darkness.

  He couldn’t look down at the water, so he stared up at the sky, at all of those stars.

  He closed his eyes and told himself it was a nightmare. He was really asleep in his suite. Or no, he was home on the farm, in his bed, with Phoebe sleeping across the room and Papa sitting by the fire downstairs.

  He closed his eyes tighter.

  He tried to block out the terrible noises around him. He felt himself tipping to the side and he held tighter to the rail. And then he couldn’t hold on anymore. His hand slipped.

  And George fell, smashing his head on the deck.

  And then there was silence.

  CHAPTER 13

  Strong arms lifted George up. He felt himself being carried.

  “Papa?” he said. “Papa?”

  Why did his head hurt so much? Had the panther knocked him out of the tree? Was he sick with a fever like Mama? And whose voice was whispering in his ear?

  “Giorgio. Giorgio. Wake up.”

  George opened his eyes. Marco’s amber eyes shone down on him.

  This was no dream. He was not sick.

  The Titanic was sinking.

  The bow was completely underwater now, and waves swept over the deck. Lounge chairs sailed past them and crashed over the side. People clung to the rails. A few slipped and were swept overboard.

  Marco had wrapped one arm around the railing and the other around George.

  “It’s time to go,” Marco said.

  “Go where?” George said, even though he knew.

  They were going into the water. There was nowhere else for them to go.

  Marco held George’s arm as they climbed over the railing.

  “When we jump, jump as far out as you can,” Marco said. “Away from the ship.” George filled his lungs with the icy air. “Jump!” Marco cried.

  George pushed with his feet and leaped off the boat. He closed his eyes, imagining that he had enormous wings that would take him soaring into the sky.

  But then he hit the water, and down he went.

  And just when he was sure his lungs would pop, the ocean seemed to spit him back up. George sputtered. The water was so cold it felt like millions of needles were stabbing him. It hurt so much he couldn’t move.

  Someone grabbed him by the life jacket and started dragging him away from the ship. It took George a few seconds to realize that it was Marco. He stopped to grab a door that was floating by. After helping George climb up on top, Marco found a crate for himself. It wasn’t big enough to keep his feet out of the water. But it was better than nothing. The crate had a rope attached to it. Marco tied it around his arm and handed the end to George.

  “Hold tight,” he said.

  They turned and stared at the ship.

  The entire front was underwater, and the back had risen toward the sky. It groaned and squeaked and sparked. Black smoke poured from its funnels, and the lights flickered. It was like watching a fairy-tale dragon, stabbed and bleeding, fighting for its life.

  And finally it seemed to give up.

  The groaning stopped. The lights went dark. And the Titanic sank into the bubbling black water, down, down, down, down, until George closed his eyes.

  He couldn’t make himself watch Mr. Andrews’s beautiful ship disappear.

  A sound rose up around him, people calling for help. More and more people, screaming and yelling, hundreds of voices swirling together like a howling wind.

  Marco pulled George away from the people and the wreckage. George couldn’t believe how strong he was, how hard he kicked, how his arms sliced through the water.

  When he finally stopped, Marco was gasping for breath, exhaling cold clouds of white mist. He tightened the rope around his arm and patted George on the shoulder.

  “I rest now, Giorgio,” he said breathlessly. He closed his eyes and put his head down on the crate. “Soon.”

  Soon what? George was afraid to ask. Soon it would be over? Soon they would be rescued? Or soon they would be swallowed up by the darkness?

  George heard men talking somewhere close by.

  He looked around, relieved that he wasn’t all by himself, and to his shock, just ahead, he saw a lifeboat.

  “Marco!” he said. “Wake up!”

  But Marco didn’t move. His arms hung off the side of the crate. His feet dangled in the icy water.

  “Marco! We need to get to that boat!”

  But Marco was still. And George realized that his friend had used every last ounce of strength. He’d gotten George off the sinking ship, and across the icy waters.

  It was up to George now.

  He tucked the rope under his body and started paddling. The water seared his hands and arms. It was so cold it felt boiling hot, like lava.

  But he didn’t stop until he reached the boat.

  It wasn’t a regular wooden lifeboat. It was much smaller, and made of canvas cloth. There were about ten people crowded inside, mostly men. They all seemed dazed and frozen. Nobody spoke as George paddled up and grabbed hold of the side.

  But somebody pushed his hand off.

  “Get back,” a voice said weakly. “You’ll put us all in the water.”

&n
bsp; “Please,” George said. “We need help.”

  George put his hand up again, but again someone pushed it off.

  And so George pulled Marco to the other side of the boat. He tried again.

  Nobody helped him. But this time nobody stopped him.

  It took him three tries, but he managed to hoist himself over the side and tumble into the boat.

  And now for Marco.

  He got up on his knees and leaned over, bracing his legs against the side of the boat as he grabbed Marco under the arms. He pulled, but Marco was attached to the crate by the rope. He tried again, yanking the rope, digging at the knot with his frozen fingers. But the knot was like rusted metal. George struggled, and water sloshed over the side of the boat.

  “Just let him go,” one of the men said weakly. “It’s hopeless.”

  But George kept working on the rope, trying now to break it away from the crate. He was pulling so hard that at first he didn’t notice that Marco was slipping into the sea.

  “Please! Somebody!” George screamed. “Can’t you help us?”

  A woman from the front of the boat climbed back to George.

  She wore a black coat, her head and face hidden by a flowered shawl. As she pushed George aside she pulled something out of her coat.

  A knife!

  With a clean cut, she sliced the rope and helped George pull Marco into the boat.

  Her hands looked surprisingly strong.

  George fell back, exhausted.

  “Thank you,” George said to the woman through his chattering teeth.

  The woman didn’t say anything, and suddenly George noticed the knife. A bowie knife with an elk-horn handle.

  George looked up, under the shawl. Two glittering blue eyes looked back at him.

  The scar-faced man.

  He had saved Marco’s life.

  Without a word, he handed George his knife.

  Then he looked away.

  CHAPTER 14

  The cold pressed down on George until it seemed to crush his bones. He huddled close to Marco, trying to keep them both warm. Marco barely moved.

  Some of the men sang softly. Others prayed. Some made no sounds at all. Hours went by.